Somewhere Only We Know
by Tara Lux
Summary: Shy Lia Moon runs into someone she's been trying to forget since the first day of first year. Theodore Nott wants to avoid this Mudblood but finds that, this time, he can't.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters except Lia and Theo's personality. Everything else belongs to JKR.  
  
**A/N**: A huge thank you to my beta and sister, Earendil!  
  
**PROLOGUE**  
  
_September, 1991_  
  
Theodore Nott was transfixed. This was the first time he had ever laid eyes on the towering majesty that was Hogwarts Castle, and, like the three other boys in his boat and the countless other students in the boats behind him, he was in awe. The castle loomed in front of them, welcoming them to the next seven years of their lives.  
  
As his boat finally reached the rocky banks surrounding the castle, Theo hopped out, brushing off his brand new robes and cloak.  
  
"It's nice, isn't it?" asked Draco, grinning at Theo pompously. "I knew it'd be amazing; I've heard it's one of the grandest buildings in all of Great Britain."  
  
"Yeah, Father says the only thing wrong with it is that it's overrun with Mudbloods," said Theo, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Draco laughed. "I reckon we can change that, don't you?" he said with a wink.  
  
Theo smirked, but felt a tiny shadow of unease in the back of his mind. He himself hated Mudbloods, but wasn't quite sure if they should be _exterminated_.  
  
Theo and Draco -- after impatiently waiting for Vince and Greg to laboriously clamber out of the boat -- hurried after the rest of the students who were making their way in wide-eyed clusters through the massive, oak double-doors of the castle.  
  
After they were led inside by a tall, bespectacled, severe-looking woman who was called Professor McGonagall, the crowd of students were instructed to wait in the Entrance Hall, a huge room with a marble staircase at its center, while Professor McGonagall prepared for the Sorting. The students, who numbered around two-hundred-fifty, huddled together in the packed Entrance Hall, their nervous, chattering voices amplified by the size and height of the room.  
  
Theo glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye -- he appeared to be engaged in a less-than-pleasant conversation with a boy with black hair and glasses, whom Draco had identified on the train as the Harry Potter. Good, thought Theo, casually drifting away from Draco, Vince, and Greg. He wanted to take in the surroundings, to fully appreciate its beauty and newness, and he knew he wouldn't be able to with Draco and the others nearby.  
  
He squeezed in between the throngs of first-years, trying to get to the back of the crowd, where, against the beige stone walls, stood two shiny suits of armor, their impressive swords shining grandly. Theo didn't think it at all strange that he was more interested in his surroundings than in his classmates, but anyone else observing the scene would notice that every other student except Theo was excitedly whispering to their neighbours, either out of enthusiastic friendliness, nervous anxiety, or a combination of both.  
  
Every other student except one -- a freckled girl with long, curly black hair and an upturned nose, who was standing in the back of the crowd near a set of four massive hourglasses. Theo stared at the girl, who was gazing up at the beautifully painted, high ceiling, and wondered why she wasn't busy chatting with the other students. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off her, which was strange in itself, since she wasn't particularly pretty.  
  
Her eyes suddenly left the ceiling and fell upon Theo, who immediately looked away, his heart beating fast. After a moment or two, he dared to glance back at her, and found that she was smiling at him shyly, her light brown eyes shining with amiable exuberance.  
  
Theo stared at her, unsure what to do. Her smile was so sweet, so beautiful, that he felt an intense urge to smile back. However, she was a stranger, and Theo didn't often go around smiling at random strangers. But there she stood, still smiling, although it was starting to fade a bit with obvious doubt. Before he knew what he was doing, Theo found himself grinning at her, and to his surprise, the girl grinned back, her round face beaming. She hesitated, then stepped forward, evidently ready to introduce herself, when Theo saw something that made his smile disappear at once.  
  
In her right hand was a small paperback book that all respectable Purebloods shunned and ridiculed: _A Muggle's Guide to the Wizarding World: Tips and Tricks for Fitting In_. Her finger was lodged between the pages, as though she'd just been reading it and had decided to take a break. Theo was standing there, grinning stupidly at a Mudblood.  
  
At once, his smile disappeared and was replaced by the most hateful sneer he could muster. His eyes burned with loathing and his jaw set fiercely. The girl blinked, her smile fading quickly. Her large eyes searched his face, evidently trying to discern the reason for his abrupt change of expression. He stood there resolutely as her face turned red and her eyelashes fluttered, trying to hide whatever embarrassment was in her eyes.  
  
Turning on his heel, Theo marched past the girl, dodging between the packed crowds of first years. However, he found himself involuntarily glancing at her as he passed, and noticed with a small amount of alarm that her eyes were filled with tears. Theo smirked, but felt a tiny shred of guilt in his heart. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had returned and was leading the students, single file, into a cavernous adjacent room she called the Great Hall. Abolishing all thoughts of the curly-haired girl from his mind, Theo followed his classmates into the regal Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: (IMPORTANT) This revised version of Chapter 1 includes Theo's POV, something I'd originally left out of Chapter 1. Read on and see. :)**

A humongous thank you to my beta and sister, Earendil!

**Disclaimer:** All the characters belong to JK Rowling, except for Lia, Lia's family, and Theo's personality.

**.:CHAPTER ONE:.**

_January 1996_

She could envision the painting so well that she felt as though she were actually immersed within the depths of its rough canvas. But she didn't _feel _canvas; no, it was quite the contrary. She was swimming in the depths of the Arctic Sea, deeper and deeper down, until all she could see were brilliantly colored fish, shimmering seahorses, and the monolithic forms of icebergs in the distance. The water was pleasantly cool and refreshing, and not a sound could be heard at all--

"Moon! _Moon! _Answer my question!" snapped Professor Snape's biting voice, jarring her out of her vision. "_What_ plant is the primary source of Mothflax?"

Celia Moon blinked furiously, making sure this new scene wasn't simply a continuation of her reverie, which of course it wasn't. She felt her face become hot as she glanced out of the corner of her eye around the gloomy Potions classroom. Everyone was staring expectantly at her and the silence in the room was tangible and thick.

"I--I don't know, Professor," she said.

"Idle, ignorant girl," hissed Snape, cold disgust burning in his coal black eyes. "_Daring_ to fall asleep in my class--ten points from Hufflepuff."

Thankfully, the class ended soon after. Lia had packed up her books and was headed up the curving, underground staircase leading up to the Entrance Hall when she felt herself being shoved forward into the cold stone wall of the staircase. Ignoring the searing pain in her shoulder and wrist, she whirled around to see what was the cause of this. Four boys she recognized as Slytherin fifth years were leering at her.

"Oh, drat, sorry 'bout that," drawled Draco Malfoy, who was at the front of the group. Lia had been in Charms with him last year and knew enough of him to hate him fully. "I didn't see you! But then again, you're as ugly as all the other Mudbloods, so you sort of blend in -- silly me."

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two very large thugs that were standing on either side of Malfoy, grunted in laughter, their wide, dull faces sneering. The other Slytherin stood a little further back from the group and smirked, his dark blue eyes coolly washing over Lia and making her slightly uncomfortable.

"Sod off, Malfoy," said Lia in a voice that concealed her apprehension.

"Oho!" said Malfoy in an exaggeratedly scandalized voice. "You watch your attitude, _Mudblood_," he barked, shoving past her again with his cronies; but this time she'd anticipated as such and didn't have to bear the entire weight of Crabbe and Goyle. Brushing off her robes and re-positioning her bag on her shoulders, Lia headed for the stairs leading up to the Entrance Hall, her nerves feeling as though she'd just thrown them into the washing machine of her family's London apartment and forced them through the spin-cycle.

Dinner in the Great Hall was spent as usual, at the far end of the Hufflepuff table, closest to the door. Lia wasn't very close with most of the other Hufflepuffs, as they all happened to be the opposite of what she was--social, outgoing, and popular. She glanced over at Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, Zacharias Smith, Susan Bones, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, who were sitting at the middle of the table, laughing loudly. Zacharias was using his wand to twist Hannah's two braids into a sort of candy cane that caused her to levitate a foot off her seat, while Ernie, Susan, Justin, and most of the table were doubled over in laughter. Lia' gaze lingered on Justin, whom she had been fancying since fourth year. Besides his charming personality and handsome appearance, there was something about Justin that Lia was drawn to, something she couldn't exactly place but that nonetheless caused a little flutter in her stomach every time she saw Justin.

Lia didn't very much like crowds, and always made it a point to sit as close to the door as possible; an added benefit of sitting there was that more people sat towards the other end of the table and she was free to take out her sketchpad and draw without being questioned.

"Is that a mermaid?" said a disapproving, nasal voice behind Lia. She jumped and saw Eloise Midgeon peering over the table, her round face beaming with curiosity.

"Well--yes, but I've just started this sketch; right now she doesn't really look very much like a human, much less a mermaid."

Eloise picked up Lia' sketchbook, studying it closely. "You're right." She wrinkled her nose and handed the sketchbook back to Lia. "Sorry Celia, but maybe you need to practice your sketching a bit more." She walked off towards the Entrance Hall, humming to herself in her high, nasal voice.

Lia returned to sketching, sighing. Usually, the snide comments and lack of tact from Eloise Midgeon didn't really get to Lia; in fact Eloise was one of the few friends Lia actually had at Hogwarts. Lia had a feeling that Eloise's behavior was simply the result of being the victim of constant and often downright cruel teasing from her classmates, and though Lia herself had been lucky enough not to experience as bad treatment, she did find herself able to relate to Eloise on some level. Ever since Lia had come to Hogwarts when she was eleven, she'd known that she would never fit in, and would be lucky if she had any friends at all. Lia had found out on the very first day of her very first year at school that being a Muggle-born, especially a Muggle-born from a family that didn't have very much money, wasn't the most desirable of situations in the wizarding world. As a result, Lia, who'd been shy all her life, had found herself retreating further into her shell during the past five years.

_Why can't I just get over my shyness and start talking to people?_ _Oh, that's right--every time I try to, I'm immediately reminded that I'm an outsider here, that I'm not like the others, that I'm in the group known as the lowest of the low_.

Then she would quietly retreat back into her sketches and for the most part keep to herself. It was how it always was and would always be.

Sighing and glancing at her watch, Lia got up and packed up her sketchbook and quills. She was going to turn in early tonight; her Potions essay and Herbology homework would have to wait till tomorrow.

She headed out the doors to the Entrance Hall, down the East Corridor, and down the wide flight of cellar stairs to Hufflepuff Hall, where she carefully drew back the golden curtains of her four-poster, changed into her nightclothes, and crawled under the gold velvet sheets. The room was completely empty, and, looking at her stopwatch, she wasn't surprised. It was only eight o'clock, and everyone was probably downstairs, socializing and laughing with their friends. She turned and blew out the candles near her bed, eager to fall asleep as quickly as possible, for she'd been feeling oddly uneasy and subdued since after Potions class that day. After Potions that day, Lia had run into someone she'd been avoiding for the past four-and-a-half years.

----

Theodore Nott swore loudly, wadded up the thick parchment into the smallest ball possible, and threw it across the wide expanse of the Slytherin common room, where it landed two inches away from the hearth. There were only two or three other people in the room, all who looked up in alarm at his outburst. He avoided their glances and slammed his sketchbook shut.

Pushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes, where it seemed perpetually determined to stay and irritate him, Theo sighed. He'd had a serious lack of artistic inspiration lately, and whenever this happened his mood suffered severely – along with anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

It was a quarter after eight in the evening, and Theo was sitting at a table in a corner of the dark green common room with sheaves of parchment, assorted paint-quills, bottles of ink, and an open copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ spread out before him. He'd thought it would be a brilliant idea – a huge, full-color painting of the seven members of the Wimbourne Wasps flying through the air against a breathtaking backdrop of mountains, lush greenery, and an ice-blue sky. After all, it would incorporate his two favorite things in life: painting and Quidditch. Unfortunately, every time he tried to actually paint something on that blasted piece of parchment, something or other was off, imperfect. _This is ridiculous, _he thought angrily. _I'm going to try one more time, and if nothing happens, oh well._ Biting his lip thoughtfully, Theo spread out a fresh piece of parchment, picked up his paint-quill, and dipped it into the vial of blue paint. Positioning it above the blank parchment, he carefully started to paint the outline of the snow-capped mountains –

"Theo, where were you? I didn't see you in the corridors after Charms today!" came a squeaky, high-pitched voice right behind Theo. He jumped, the quill coursing across the parchment and leaving a garish blue streak in its wake.

"What – dammit, Daphne!" said Theo, not bothering to turn around and look at her. He crumpled up this latest piece of parchment and through it across the room again, this time missing the fire entirely and hitting a nearby first-year on the side of his head.

"Sorry, sorry," Daphne Greengrass said hurriedly, flashing a flirtatious grin, running a hand through her straight blonde hair, and sitting down in the formerly wonderfully-empty seat beside him. "So, where were you? We were supposed to walk to the Great Hall together for lunch—"

"I went for a fly on the grounds with Draco, Vince, and Greg," muttered Theo, stuffing his things into his bag and abruptly getting up. "Yeah, so I have to study. 'Bye." And without another word, he strode off down the left staircase to his dormitory.

Once he reached his thankfully empty dormitory, Theo slammed the door shut and flopped down onto his king-size four-poster. Lying flat on his back, his long legs hanging over the edge of the green-and-silver bed, he gazed dully at the room around him, wishing something, anything, would get his artistic juices flowing, get him out of this rut of not being able to transfer his thoughts onto parchment. The room stared back at him, as mundane and ordinary as ever. This was the fifth year Theo was sharing this room with Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zabini, and the setup of the room hadn't changed a bit since their first day at Hogwarts. At the foot of each of the five beds sat large trunks filled with everyone's belongings; on each bedside table sat various objects, among them miniature figures of Quidditch players (all whom were throwing reproachful glares at each other from atop their tables), magically refilling glasses of water, and various photographs. But Theo's bedside table didn't have any of these things. The only item on Theo's table was a brilliantly-hued, plushly feathered quill, its writing-end planted securely in a glass holder. Theo propped himself up on his elbows and carefully removed the quill from its glass orb. He twirled it around in its fingers, examining its vibrant beauty. When it had arrived by owl ten days ago, on his sixteenth birthday, everyone near him at the Slytherin table had admired it, and so had Theo, for it was a gift from his father. Of course it was the best that money could buy, and ridiculously expensive, but Theo liked it because it was the first sign of contact he'd had with his father in two months. Lysander Nott had told Theo in early September that this year was going to be extremely busy, and not to expect many owls from home. Theo had nodded, shaken hands with his father, and boarded the Hogwarts Express, ready to begin another year of studying and secrecy. Of course, Theo had known that this year, the secrecy would have to be taken to new levels. The return of the Dark Lord the previous June, although not causing even a ripple in most of the wizarding world, had thrown the Nott family and its acquaintances into frenzied, yet clandestine action.

Theo idly tossed the quill high into the air, before catching it with two fingers. It had been easy enough keeping the fact that his father was a Death Eater a secret for the first four years at Hogwarts, but Theo knew that this year he would have to actually take care to keep his guard up. Too much was at stake, and Theo knew that, even though he had no clue exactly _what_ was going on with his father, the rest of the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord, for his father wouldn't dream of telling him.

The first half of the year had gone as smoothly as it could have, without any major disruptions or unusual occurrences, and Theo hoped that the rest of the year would be the same. He had devoted most of his time to his studies, and had gotten his usual stellar marks; he had spent his free time either coursing through the air on his brand-new broom, or working on paintings; he had stayed away from the Mudblood and Half-breed filth, occasionally throwing a "friendly" remark or two their way. And most importantly, he had stayed well out of the scrutiny and curiosity of others, thereby protecting both his and his father's reputations.

A combination of the above and his own introspective, solitary nature led to Theo mostly keeping to himself. To be sure, he did have friends, but he wasn't close to them, nor did he particularly enjoy any of their company. Regarding most of these friends, Theo felt that he had to associate with them by a sort of inescapable default – Draco, Vincent, and Greg all had fathers who, along with Theo's father, were members of the Dark Lord's inner circle. Theo had known all three of them since he was a baby, and upon coming to Hogwarts, found that these ties were to be most certainly continued. However, despite their often vehement insistence that he follow their crowd and their hobbies, Theo usually managed to distance himself from them and pursue his own interests.

Leaning back against the dark-emerald damask pillows, Theo yawned. It had been a long day; he'd had a two-hour Arithmancy exam that he was quite sure he'd aced, he'd spent the lunch hour flying all over the grounds (he and his flying partners had snuck into the kitchens afterward and taken various snacks to the dormitory), and he'd spent the four hours since classes had ended finishing up the rest of the week's homework in five out of six of his classes. The only studying left on Theo's agenda was for next week's Transfiguration exam, and he was planning on doing this tomorrow before classes – at four o'clock in the morning, to be exact. Indeed, the extent of Theo's solitary and private nature extended to his studies and he was often found in a corner of the library at various indecent hours, much to the irritation of the shrewish librarian.

After he'd brushed his teeth and changed, Theo blew out the candles on his bedside table and drew the curtains of his four-poster. None of his four roommates had come up to bed yet, and Theo surmised that they were out partaking in their usual time-wasting activities that caused them to neglect their studies, for instance, flirting with girls, playing pranks on Housemates, harassing Potter, or tormenting first-years, Half-breeds, or Mudbloods. The last of these things was a favorite among Draco, Vince, and Greg, and Theo found himself lazily surprised that today they hadn't attained their usual quota of around five half-breeds or Mudbloods – no, there had only been one today, that curly-haired Hufflepuff girl in the dungeon hallway at four o'clock. Theo tugged his bedclothes closely around him, feeling the familiar and welcome sensation of impending sleep weighing down upon his eyes. _That girl got what she deserved, stupid Mudblood, _thought Theo drowsily. _Serves her right for coming to this school, the impure little chit. Although Draco and the others _were_ a bit rough in pushing her; after all, she _is_ just a weak, helpless, stupid girl. _Theo yawned and pulled the bedclothes over his head, determined not to think anymore. But as he finally drifted off to sleep, one thought vaguely wafted through his head, the thought that four o'clock today was not the first time he had met -- or insulted -- that girl.

----

"Consider this a warning," rang Professor Snape's cold voice, sounding strangely hollow and far-off. "If these essays even a minute late, you will serve detention with me for a week. These had better be on my desk on Wednesday, at eight AM sharp!"

Lia awoke with a start at 4:01 the next morning to the jarring realization that she had not yet started her Potions essay that was due at precisely 8 AM -- today. How the hell had she forgotten it was due today? Last night, she'd been quite sure Snape had said Thursday! She jumped out of her bed, dressed at the speed of light, grabbed her books, and raced downstairs to the library, twisting her long sable hair into a braid along the way.

The only other person in the cavernous, brightly-lit library was the vulture-like librarian, Madame Pince, who eyed Lia suspiciously as she hurried past Pince's desk. Lia paused, scanning the room. She wanted to find a private, enclosed seat -- preferably a booth -- where she could write her essay in peace; in an hour or so, there would likely be several students in the library. She finally saw one near the northwest corner of the library, near the Restricted Section. _Perfect_, thought Lia. She hurried past the heavy velvet ropes blocking the Restricted Section and dumped her things on the small desk, pushing aside a towering pile of textbooks someone had evidently forgotten to put away. The desk was enclosed on three sides by dark wood panels and faced the wall, which was ideal -- there wouldn't be any distractions. Lia sat down, draped her cloak on the back of the chair, and laid out her books in front of her.

"Excuse me," said an accusatory voice behind her. She turned around in her seat and saw the last person she wanted to see right then, or at any time – the weedy-looking Slytherin who'd helped Malfoy and his cronies shove her into the wall yesterday. Tall and thin-set with unruly dark hair and a petulant sort of face, he was now glaring at her through darkly lashed blue eyes.

"Er, yeah?" said Lia uncertainly. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach -- why would one of Malfoy's obviously prejudiced housemates feel the need to approach her? Why was he here in the library anyway? It was four in the morning!

"You're sitting in my seat," he said, gesturing to the huge pile of textbooks Lia had carelessly shoved aside.

"Oh! Sorry – sorry about that. I didn't realize they were yours," muttered Lia, starting to pack away her things and get up.

"Hang on," said the Slytherin, narrowing his eyes. "Aren't you that Mudblood girl Malfoy and the others pushed in the Potions hallway yesterday?"

Lia frowned, mingled anger and apprehension rising in her. "If you must put it so politely, yes," she said.

The Slytherin's expression was as though something incredibly repulsive was in front of him. His blue eyes burning with loathing, he reached past Lia and grabbed his pile of books. "On second thought, don't bother getting up," he muttered, not looking at Lia. "I'd rather not sit in a seat that's been contaminated by Mudblood germs."

Lia felt the tingling sensation of humiliation creeping up into her cheeks and causing them to turn a deep red. She blinked, hoping the hot burning feeling in her eyes didn't have anything to do with tears. "You can have your stupid seat," she said, promptly getting up and shoving her books into her bag. "Just leave me alone."

"I have no desire to talk to you," snarled the Slytherin. "Don't kid yourself, Mudblood."

"Ex_cuse_ me!" barked a malevolent, booming female voice, causing Lia to jump. Madame Pince was standing behind the Slytherin, her hands on her hips and her face white with fury. "How _dare_ you use that kind of language in my library? Speak your name and House, _now_!"

The boy threw a hateful glare at Lia and then turned to Madame Pince, his expression immediately respectful. "Theodore Nott, Slytherin."

"Well, Theodore Nott from Slytherin, I don't know what gave you the idea that there may be any form of conversation in this library, much less _that_ type of language!" bellowed Madame Pince. "I thought _you_ would know; you're certainly in here enough! Twenty points from Slytherin!"

Heaving with emotion, she turned to Lia as Theodore Nott's face turned an angry shade of crimson. "And you, Miss, need to realize that the library is not a place you can conduct your little _arguments _with your classmates. What are you people doing here at this hour, anyway?"

"I -- I have to write an essay for Professor Snape," said Lia, trying to maintain a cool gaze at Madame Pince, although this was difficult, since the elder woman was glowering at her like a bird of prey. "It's due at --"

"What about you?" barked Madame Pince, turning to Theodore Nott.

"Arithmancy and Transfiguration," he muttered.

"Oh, is that so? Well, if I hear so much as a _peep_ out of _either_ of you, then you can forget about studying _anything_ in this library ever again!" She stormed off.

Lia didn't bother to see what Nott's expression was, or worse, to wait for him to throw some more insults at her, however quiet they were likely to be. She swung her bag over her shoulder and marched past him, setting her things down at a large round table at the other end of the room. After all this precious time had been wasted, there was no point in worrying about privacy and quiet; hopefully, not many people would decide to come to the library that morning.

She chanced a quick glance at the other end of the room, where Theodore Nott had decided to sit in the booth next to the one in which Lia had formerly sat. Banishing all thoughts unrelated to Potions from her mind, she set to work on her essay, which was to be about the practical application of Foxpur leaves in Intimacy Draughts. She worked steadily, the sky outside slowly changing from midnight black to purplish-blue to a brilliant pink. She was on the sixth page of the ten-page essay and shivering due to the freezing January air coming in from the window when she realized that she didn't have her cloak on.

_Oh no_, she thought miserably, her eyes falling on the chair next to Theodore Nott's booth. Now she would be forced to face the very likely possibility of another conversation with him.

She took a deep breath and got up from her table. There was no way around it; she would need her cloak not only to keep warm, but also for lessons. She made her way slowly over to the booth where Theodore Nott was sitting, his back towards her and his face buried in a massive Arithmancy textbook. He turned in his seat to see her, a frown deepening on his face with every second.

"I'm just getting my cloak," said Lia coldly. Her knuckles were very white, to her dismay. She didn't need to be afraid of this boy...or did she?

He stared at her. "Didn't I tell you not to talk to me?" he said quietly, so as not to incur the wrath of Madame Pince. "I don't associate with your kind."

"Trust me, the last thing I want to do is talk to you," whispered Lia, reaching for her cloak, which still sat on the back of the adjacent chair.

But Theodore Nott acted more quickly, snatching Lia's cloak and holding it in front of him, out of her reach. He smirked, as if challenging Lia to try and reach for it.

"Wh -- give me my cloak!" hissed Lia, trying to keep her voice down.

"Yeah? Why should I?" said Theodore Nott, closing his book and leaning back casually.

Lia clenched her fists, trying to channel every angry, negative feeling she'd ever had onto her face and hoping it would be noticeable. "_Because_. It's mine. Now please give it back to me!"

Theodore Nott chuckled. "I've always thought there was nothing funnier or more ironic than a Mudblood trying to act like they own the place. Here." He tossed the cloak at her; it landed in her face and the impact caused her to fall back a few steps.

That was it. Lia had had enough of this boy's stupid smirks and insults, not to mention the way he looked at her and treated her, like she was some sort of inferior creature not worth treating decently.

"What's with you? Why are you so rude? Just because I'm not Pure or whatnot?"

Nott stopped leaning on his chair and glowered. "You really are thicker than I thought."

"You're a git, and I'm not thick," said Lia, staring determinedly at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you. You have your cloak, so leave."

Lia bit her lip. He was staring at her, open contempt on his face. Instinctively, she nervously looked down, happening to glance at her watch on the way--and with a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized that it was half past seven. She now had half an hour to write four more pages!

She turned on her heel and ran back to her table, her cloak now wrapped around her shoulders where it should be. Stuffing her books in her bag and shoving the chair under the table, she dashed out of the doors, passing a scowling Theodore Nott along the way.

"NO RUNNING IN MY LIBRARY!" shouted Madame Pince.

In Potions that morning, Snape had glanced at her essay, leafed through it to make sure there were indeed ten full pages, and then tossed it unceremoniously into the "To Do" bin on his desk. Lunch was spent in the surprisingly crowded library, where Lia finished up Flitwick's Charms homework; it turned out that everyone else in the library was studying for OWL's, and Lia had felt a pang of guilt at not having even opened a single book for OWL's yet. Why did she always have to procrastinate? She was very glad when, at seven o'clock, her classes were finally over. After dinner in the Great Hall, Lia started to head upstairs to the Hufflepuff common room to start on her Transfiguration homework, but stopped when she passed the Gryffindor table--she had something to ask Harry Potter.

"Er, Harry?" said Lia, glancing around nervously at the table. It was crowded with talking and laughing students, a few of whom stopped what they were doing and looked up at her when she arrived.

Harry Potter had been talking in a low voice to Hermione Granger, but looked up at Lia, too. "Hey, Celia. What's up?"

"Are we still having a D.A. meeting tonight?" she said quietly, after making sure the coast was clear of any nosy people or, worse, Slytherins.

Hermione Granger answered for Harry. "No, tonight's meeting is cancelled; Harry has detention with Umbridge."

Ron Weasley snorted malevolently. "As usual. That fat toad is always ruining our plans one way or the other."

"It could be worse; at least she doesn't know about the D.A. yet," said Harry. He turned to Lia. "I'll let you know--well, your coin will let you know--when our next meeting is. Until then, just try to read up on Patronuses, we're doing those next."

Lia nodded and left the table, feeling rather excited. Patronuses were extremely advanced magic--why were they learning them so soon? With a sinking feeling, she realized why. If Harry Potter was to be believed, then the dark lord Voldemort had returned at the end of last school year, and was now alive and well, strengthening his forces and probably recruiting new allies. Of course, most of the school thought all this was pure rubbish, but ever since October of last year, Lia had slowly begun to believe what Harry said, and had even decided to join a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group, called Dumbledore's Army.

As she walked up the stairs to Hufflepuff Hall, she suddenly remembered that she'd been waiting anxiously for a chance to finish her mermaid picture, but had never had enough time, what with the massive amount of homework teachers had been throwing at the fifth years. Turning around, Lia half-ran back down the stairs, into the now-quiet Entrance Hall, and out the doors into the grounds. It was only half-past-six, and there were three more hours in which she could draw peacefully until the nine o'clock curfew. Besides, ever since first year, she'd been using the Greenhouses for drawing, and no one had yet happened upon her--but this year, she'd had to be extra careful, because of Umbridge's ridiculous decrees and rules. Luckily, none of the rules said anything about being on the grounds before curfew. Skipping down the stone steps and onto the manicured grass, Lia excitedly planned out the medium she was going to use this time--she finally decided on oil pastels, as they would be perfect for conveying the shimmery, ethereal effect of a mermaid. She went halfway down the hill, making an abrupt right at the vegetable patches, and finally reached the door of Greenhouse #1. Lia checked her watch--six thirty on the dot. There would be no students there, as Herbology lessons ended at four, and she doubted that even Professor Sprout would be in there this late. She opened the door gingerly and took out her wand.

"_Illuminatus obscurus_," she whispered, swishing the wand. The reflective glass of the greenhouse walls suddenly brightened, casting a pleasant golden glow all around the room. She quickly stepped outside the greenhouse, and saw, to her satisfaction, that its exterior was as dark as ever. This was one of the cleverer spells she'd found in _Rare and Unusual Advanced Charms_.

Lia shut the door behind her and settled down on one of the benches in the room, laying out her materials before her. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her battered sketchbook and a small photograph of a mermaid with long, rust-colored curls and a disdainful expression, and began to sketch carefully.

"Hiding out here, are you?" said a voice from the direction of the door.

Lia started, dropping her charcoal pencil. Leaning casually on the doorframe was none other than Theodore Nott.

"How--why--what are you doing here?" she sputtered.

"I don't have to explain my whereabouts," he replied, shrugging aloofly. He strolled into the room and stopped near the bench, glancing around and wrinkling his nose in disgust. "This place smells like plant feed. I don't know how you can sit in here."

"It's a greenhouse," Lia said curtly.

Nott simply glared at her.

After about two minutes of utter silence, Lia started to wonder what in the world was going on. Nott was standing there, not saying anything, but she didn't know what his expression was, as she was determinedly staring at her hands. Why couldn't he just leave? Suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to her, causing her stomach to tighten in fear. Umbridge didn't know that Lia used the Greenhouse to draw, and even though there was no decree stating that students had to be in the castle at all times, this Slytherin could easily make up some tale about Lia sneaking about and tell Umbridge. It was well-known that she favored the Slytherins above all the other students.

Lia looked up at Nott--who was still standing there and now looking bored--and took a deep breath.

"Look, I use this room to practice my drawing, and Umbridge hasn't yet issued some ridiculous decree that forbids sitting here, so you've nothing to tattle about. Why don't you just leave and get back to your rotten gang--"

"Is that supposed to be a mermaid?" interrupted Nott, gesturing over to Lia' sketchbook haughtily, his nose in the air.

Lia frowned. "Yes, I'm drawing Griselda the Green. She lives in the Hogwarts Lake. Why?"

Nott laughed. "And you're using a painting as inspiration?"

"Well...yes...I mean, I can't very well sit out there in front of the lake, waiting for a mermaid to surface. Plus, I--I prefer privacy."

Nott was still looking at her as with a haughty, condescending expression. "Only when you draw?"

"Well, I always need privacy if I'm drawing, but...I like to be alone at other times, too." She gulped, fully expecting this spiteful Slytherin to laugh and insult her for being a loner, but she found herself not caring. She was used to this sort of treatment by now.

However, he just looked at her and said with a shrug, "I've always thought no company was better than lousy company."

Lia was surprised by the lack of contempt and mocking in his voice, but didn't say anything. Neither did Nott, to Lia's dismay, and the room was again silent. This time, however, Lia bit her lip resolutely and turned back to her sketchpad. She had no idea why this Slytherin boy had shown up at the greenhouse after lessons were over, why he was talking to her after he'd expressly said he didn't associate with "her kind", and why he was now standing there silently. Perhaps if she ignored him completely, he'd leave...

"What's your name, anyway?" he said, after what felt like an hour.

Lia looked up. Nott was still standing there, his hands in his robe pockets and a green and silver scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. He was looking rather bored.

"Celia," she said curtly.

"What's your last name?"

Lia was going to prepare herself this time. "D'you want to insult me some more? You already seem to know I'm Muggle-born or whatnot, so why do you want to know my last name?"

Nott stared at her, open dislike on his face. "You watch who you're talking to, Moon."

Lia stared back at him. How did he know her name? And if he'd known it all along, why was he _asking_ her?

"How--how did you know my name?"

Nott snickered. "I'm a Slytherin, you're a Mudblood--we like to know what the enemies' names are."

Lia suddenly remembered something. "Is that also why you and Draco Malfoy's gang knew I was a Mudb--Muggle-born yesterday on the dungeon staircase? Because you...want to know the enemy?"

"Yes. At the beginning of every school year, they -- my friends, I mean -- sneak into Filch's office to see the list of new first-years and check who all the Mudbloods and Half-breeds are. Then, we do our magic." He chuckled lazily. "The idea is to torment them until they have no choice but to leave the school."

Lia felt a surge of white-hot anger rising up inside her... Whenever this happened, she always regretted how she would act, what she would say...

"How commendable," she snapped.

"It is, really," said Nott, yawning. "The world would be a better place without Mudbloods and Half-breeds. Of course, the scum of the earth is Muggles – but there are too many of them to efficiently get rid of, really--"

That was it.

"For your information, my parents are both Muggles, and so are all of my family, and I don't appreciate your blatant and disgusting insults of people who haven't committed a single crime except for having the wrong kind of lineage! I may not have Pure blood, but at least I'm not an evil, narrow-minded dunderhead like you!"

Lia was breathing very hard. She didn't care what this Slytherin thought anymore, or what he would say or try to do to her. She mentally dared him to insult her again.

But he just stood there, his expression unreadable.

Without another word, Lia scrambled up from the bench and shoved her things in her bag, throwing on her cloak. She tried to ignore the tight, burning feeling in her eyes that signified the onset of -- well, the onset of something Lia was determined not to allow. He was not going to elicit the same reaction from her that he did on their first day of their first year, over four years ago. Pushing past him, Lia ran out the greenhouse door.

**A/N:** Well, I hope you liked this first chapter. Chapter 2 will arrive in a month or so; I just am overloaded with five literature classes, trying to finish my Bachelor's degree in time. Thank you for your time and reviews. :)


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